


Soft

by postmodernmulticoloredcloak



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmodernmulticoloredcloak/pseuds/postmodernmulticoloredcloak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a post-Civil War universe where the movie ends with everyone safe and sound, Bucky has a breakdown and Steve is there for him. Bubble baths, soups, caresses and kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to Mary for her beta work!

As soon as the mess with the Avengers is over, Bucky has a breakdown. It doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone, Bucky included. The poor guy has been through enough, and a person’s body and brain can only take so much. Fury allows them to take all the time off they need, to Steve’s relief—he needed a break too.

The first few weeks are uneventful. Bucky stops talking, with the exception of the few words he needs for practical communication. He stays indoors all day, and he tends to sit curled in on himself, mostly in a corner of the couch, only leaving that spot when he needs to. He rarely goes into the kitchen, and doesn’t take initiative on eating. Steve brings food and water to him and they eat together on the couch, silent, sometimes with a vinyl playing softly from a corner of the room. Steve has an iPhone deck, but he soon realizes that the familiar scratching of the vinyl makes Bucky feel more at ease.

He spends a lot of time in the bathroom. Steve knows that most of the time he doesn’t actually need to use the toilet, but it’s the smallest room in the apartment and the one with the smaller window, and Steve figures that makes Bucky feel safe. Steve doesn’t disturb him, but he suspects that Bucky curls inside the empty bathtub and fiddles with the rubber duck.

Bucky constantly fiddles with things—a pillow, the remote, kitchenware. He never keeps his hands empty, and when there’s nothing available to grab he pinches his right arm with the fingers of his left hand, leaving small bruises. Steve does a little research, and he finds out that there are special objects for adults to fiddle with—stimming toys, they’re called—and he orders some online. Bucky doesn’t say anything about them, but he seems to appreciate them.

Another reason Bucky spends a lot of time in the bathroom are actual baths. That’s the only time Steve feels that he’s allowed inside the bathroom with him. Bucky likes to be surrounded with a lot of bubbles, and loves to have his hair washed by Steve. He doesn’t say anything, but he makes soft appreciative noises, especially when Steve massages his neck, his right shoulder, and the area around his metal arm.

It’s not just the bubble baths. Steve realizes right away that Bucky likes soft things. Anything velvety, fleecy, or fluffy has his seal of approval. He hates the feeling of metal and hard plastic—Steve buys him some cutlery for toddlers, made with some kind of soft rubbery material. The only metallic thing he seems to be okay with, surprisingly enough, is his arm. Steve imagines it’s because his brain has ingrained his arm well enough that he doesn’t feel uncomfortable with it. It probably helps that his metal arm contributed in protecting Steve. Sometimes he catches Bucky running his right hand fingers along the metal arm, tracing the creases between the plates. The expression on Bucky’s face in those moments is unreadable, but Steve believes he’s actively trying to get himself fully used to the metal arm by making himself familiar with it.

He performs maintenance on his metal arm regularly. Steve is pretty sure it’s a grounding routine for Bucky—he follows the same motions every day, making sure the arm is entirely well-functioning, oiled, clean, and shiny. He applies the same care for the rest of his body, actually. He takes more baths than he needs to. He brushes his hair and shaves and brushes his teeth more than he needs to, but Steve doesn’t say anything. Bucky is obviously fond of cleaning himself and keeping his appearance nice and orderly, and it never turns into an obsession, so Steve just lets him do what makes him comfortable. 

Bucky also stares at his reflection in the mirror a lot, and Steve knows it’s not just to make sure his facial hair has been properly shaved or his hairstyle is spot on. Bucky looks into his own eyes, he looks at all the little motions his facial muscles make. When he’s naked, he gazes attentively at his body. Steve knows he’s trying to memorize himself. 

Being naked, actually, doesn’t come completely easy for Bucky. He only bares a part of his body if Steve has done the same, as though he feels more vulnerable if he’s less clothed than Steve. This means Steve needs to get naked if Bucky wants to take a bath, but that doesn’t bother Steve—Bucky likes to bathe in water warm enough to warm up the whole room.

Warmth is another thing Bucky seems to absolutely need. He always keeps a few quilts around himself, and when Steve sits next to him on the couch, Bucky snuggles against him. 

Bucky, actually, never initiates physical contact unless they’re sitting on the couch or laying on the bed. He doesn’t seem to mind Steve touching him, though—in fact, whenever Steve brushes against him, he seems to lean into the touch. Sometimes Steve uses the excuse of brushing hair strands out of Bucky’s face to caress his forehead and temples, and Bucky closes his eyes and slightly pushes his head forward. 

It’s not like Steve doesn’t have many chances of touching Bucky. He loves massages and rubs, which often actually turn into soft strokes and caresses. Okay, which often turn into long, maddening slow petting sessions that leave both of them breathless and shaky. Bucky is pretty much addicted to being touched gently, although Steve can’t say that his initial tender touches don’t turn a little more aggressive when Bucky starts moaning softly against his neck. 

One day, Steve accidentally scratches Bucky’s back. He freezes as soon as he realizes what he’s done, but it’s too late, and Bucky flinches and retracts. They stare at each other for a few, seemingly endless, seconds of impasse, before Bucky snuggles against Steve and has him hold him tight, cradling him. Bucky whimpers as Steve cuddles him as delicately as he can, and they lose themselves to the sweetness of the sensations, and even their orgasms come as gentle waves of pleasure. 

The second time Steve accidentally loses control and digs his nails deep into Bucky’s back, Bucky lets out a loud whine and grinds sharply against Steve.

Getting used to rougher touches is a slow process for Bucky, nevertheless. Getting used to everything is a slow process for him. Even being alone is hard. Steve only leaves the apartment when he has to do the grocery shopping or other necessary chores. When he gets back, he findsBucky curled on the floor, surrounded by pillows, holding the biggest one tight against his chest. Steve tries to make up for his absence by buying cupcakes—he tries several bakeries before picking the one that makes the fluffiest, creamiest cupcakes. 

Bucky is extremely particular about food. He doesn’t make his own, nor does he tell Steve when he’s hungry, so Steve just sticks to a routine. The most complicated thing, though, is guessing what Bucky will eat—it mustn’t be too bland or too spicy, or too sweet or too savory, or too contrasting in textures or too homogeneous. Not that Bucky tells him these things—Steve finds out the hard way, dealing with Bucky’s panic attacks when he eats something too much like the food Hydra would feed him, or when he eats something that overstimulates his mouth. Steve then finds out that soups are a safe bet, as long as he seasons them right—he buys several soup recipe books, ranging from Italian passatelli to Japanese soumen, and he actually has fun trying out all the different recipes. At some point, he realizes that Bucky just really likes his food to be boiled—then Steve makes a stew using stale bread, potato skins, pieces of pig meat that are usually discarded, and some cheap vegetables, and he watches fondly as Bucky silently devours it, with way more gusto than he ever did when he’d eat the exact same stew in the thirties. 

Food isn’t the only thing Bucky likes the way it was in the thirties. Modern radio horrifies him—too many aggressive sounds, piercing jingles, voices shouting, rhythmic hammering music. He isn’t fond of television sounds either—sometimes they turn the tv on, but they keep the volume either off or very low. Steve sets the screen to the lowest brightness setting, but it still makes Bucky’s eyes weary quite soon. They mostly watch documentaries. Bucky watches an extremely long one about the progress of astrophysics over the last century until the very end, even though his eyes are watering, and watches one about recent discoveries about dinosaurs twice. Still, although his favorite programs are documentaries, he devours reportages and journalistic inquiries about recent history and contemporary sociological phenomena. He gapes at the screen when he learns about the social fights at the end of the sixties and during the seventies, and he shakes his head incredulously when he learns about the construction of the European Union. Steve remembers going through the same amazement when he learnt about those things too, and he watches Bucky with a fond smile. 

Good news about the world, though, can only do so much for Bucky’s mood. Shield’s psychiatrist visits him regularly, after Fury has guaranteed Steve that she’s the best person for the job. It takes a while to find the right dosage of medications for Bucky, but once the effects of his meds start to kick in, Bucky progressively spends less time on the couch and starts helping Steve with preparing food and doing housework. Even falling asleep—and staying asleep for a reasonable amount of hours—becomes easier. 

Of course, medication isn’t a magical elixir. Some days are better, some are worse. Some days Bucky just spends all his time either fiddling with his stimming toys or taking baths (as long as Steve fills the bathtub), some days he even turns the television by himself and makes comments about the program out loud.

Some days, he wakes up early and wakes Steve up by climbing on top of him and starting smacking kisses on his face. Some days, he doesn’t get out of bed until Steve grabs him and drops him in the bathtub. Steve doesn’t mind. He can see that Bucky is getting better—slowly, sure, but recovery is there.

It’s one particular event that heartens Steve the most—when Bucky agrees to an outside wedding.


End file.
